


A Week of Orwal

by Smuttysmutwriter



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Family, Genderswap, M/M, Week of Orwal, attack rabbits, girl!Ori - Freeform, more tags to be added as the author thinks of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-04 23:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smuttysmutwriter/pseuds/Smuttysmutwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills for the tumblr 'Week of Orwal' Challenge.  Seven short fics based on the Dwalin/Ori pairing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> I've been participating in the Week or Orwal over on tumblr and I should really post them here as well. 
> 
> Some of these fills are based in the same universe as The Importance of Being Ori, others are more canon and some not canon at all. 
> 
> Day 1's prompt is 'Meetings' and features girl!Ori. Enjoy.

Ori doesn’t like visitors. 

She just doesn’t. Visitors are almost always Nori’s friends and they are very loud and very rough dwarves. She wouldn’t mind that so much, she can just go to her room and play by herself after all, but whenever Nori’s friends come over Dori gets into one of his moods; he mutters and bangs around the kitchen, refusing to speak to Nori or his guests. Then Nori gets all snappy and then Mam gets upset, and just generally the whole thing is very unpleasant. So on the whole, Ori would prefer not to have visitors, thank you very much.

These visitors must be different though. Ori can’t see them from the kitchen but Mam is out talking to them and laughing (Mam usually doesn’t chat much to Nori’s friends, she certainly doesn’t laugh like that with them, she usually just goes for one of her rests). Dori is in a flap but not one of the grumpy flaps which end in a fight. It’s a busy one, he’s pulling out the nice tea pot and the nice cups without the chips in them, bringing the cake he baked for dessert out of it’s tin (even though they haven’t had dinner yet, and cake is _definitely_ for After Dinner). 

Ori reaches up and tries to steal a sugar cube from the bowl Dori has placed on the tea tray and is rewarded with a tap to the back of her hand. 

“Ah! None of that, little miss,” Dori gives her a warning look, “Oh, look at you, come here and I’ll wash your face.”

Well now, Ori is no longer a fan of these visitors at all. What with all these forced face washings she is not inclined to be friendly to them in the slightest. She never has to have a clean face for Nori’s friends…

“There now…you’re a proper little lady. Now, go out and say ‘good day’ to Mister Balin and his brother. Show me yer curtsy first…perfect! Off you go…” 

And with that Ori is gently pushed out of the kitchen, so Dori can get the afternoon tea on properly. 

Ori thinks she might just go to her room, if only to spite Dori for the face washing. She doesn’t really like new people anyway, they make her nervous, she never quite knows what to say. 

She is just starting to tiptoe past the doorway to the safety of her room when a gentle, but definitely masculine voice speaks up. 

“Ah! And who is this wee pip?”

“Oh, this is my youngest, Mister Balin. Ori, come and say hello.”

Bother! Trapped!

Ori gives a little huff but comes over to beside Mam’s arm chair. 

“Ori dear, this is Mister Balin and his brother Mister Dwalin…”

Ori bobs a quick curtsy (not a very good one, but then she isn’t in much of a mood for curtsying) and says ‘good day’ and ‘at your service’ to the both of them. 

They both say ‘at your service back’. Ori looks up and sees an older gentledwarrow, finely dressed and with the grey of his hair almost all faded to white, a kindly smile on his face. Beside him is a younger one, and he is almost as rough looking as some of Nori’s friends, his hair bushy and black, a thick mohawk standing up right down the center of his tattooed scalp, face covered with scars. He stands to move by the fire and Ori grabs hold of Mam’s skirts. He’s huge! Almost as tall as a Man, probably taller! She’s never seen someone this big up close and she isn’t sure if she likes it. Dori has always warned her about big people, they are generally Not Proper (and that is almost certainly the worst thing to be).

She creeps around the other side of Mam’s chair and peeks out at the big dwarf. She looks at his face, watching carefully for further signs of Not Proper-ness. 

After a moment or two Dwalin notices he is the subject of some scrutiny. He looks down at the wee lass in the yellow dress, who stares at him with round brown eyes. He smiles, she’s about the same age as young Kili but from the looks of her, much less trouble. 

She pokes her tongue out at him back. He chuckles, perhaps not. She keeps staring at him, as if waiting for him to do something. Dwalin digs into his pocket and pulls out a bag of sweets he had been snacking on and gets down onto his haunches, opening it and waving her over. 

Ori approaches carefully, looking into the bag for some time before speaking. 

“Got any caramels?”

“There’s a couple in there,” he shakes up the bag, then picks out all the paper wrapped caramels and puts them into her open palm. 

Ori practically bounces with delight. She’s changed her mind, these are the best visitors they have ever had! 

Dwalin is rewarded with a bright smile and another, far deeper, curtsy. 

“Thank you…uh…” Ori feels embarrassed, she cannot remember whether this is Mister Balin or Mister Dwalin. 

“Mister Dwalin,” he offers mercifully, and bows his head to her, “At your service Miss Ori.”

She smiles at him again, “And at yours, sir.”


	2. Protection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No particular notes about today's chapter apart from that this features boy!Ori. This could be pre-slash or post-slash, I'll leave it up to your imaginations.

“You should be more careful, Mister Dwalin.”

Dwalin gave a dismissive hmph, pointedly not making eye contact with the young dwarf who was buzzing around him.

“I mean, there’s nothin’ to be ashamed of…you fought them off very well at the start there.”

Ori knelt down beside Dwalin, a bowl of warm water on his knees. The lad picked a small sponge out of the water and gingerly dabbed it against the long cut on Dwalin’s forehead. 

“Oh aye! There’s no shame in it. We all need a helping hand from time to time,” Bofur added helpfully, an (infuriating) amused twinkle in his eyes as he watched on. 

“None at all, brother,” Balin agreed, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice, “Ori lad, be sure to get that cut under his eye, that’ll turn quite nasty if given the chance.”

“Yes, Mister Balin,” Ori said, all earnest diligence as he rinsed the sponge in the water and went back to his gentle dabbing. 

“You’re very good at that Ori,” Fili piped up (and Dwalin wondered if every member of the Company was going to comment on his humiliation), “Have you trained as a healer?”

Ori went a bit red over the nose at this unexpected praise, “Oh, oh no, just the usual patching up you do around the house…for family…”

Mercifully, the rest of the Company seemed to lose interest in giggling behind their hands at Dwalin’s situation then, though he could see Balin still watching them over the fire, smoking his pipe, one of those clever little smiles of his on his face. 

Dwalin hated those smiles. 

Ori washed his sponge out again and moved to the cut under Dwalin’s eye. Ori’s fingers were surprisingly long for a dwarf, his fingertips stained with ink. His touches were gentle, feather light, and Dwalin relaxed slightly. 

“You wouldn’t think something that nibbles on grass would have such nasty little teeth…” Ori mused and Dwalin felt his face grow hot again. 

“They got tha drop on me!” 

“You shouldn’t o’ been teasing them,” Ori said softly, a gentle reprimand. Dwalin’s hand moved and, oh so casually rested on Ori’s knee (almost his thigh if Dwalin used his imagination). Ori didn’t move it away. 

Dwalin hmphed again, “If they were so bad tempered Mister Radagast should o’ kept em better leashed…or had a sign or somethin’…”

Ori smiled, “Beware: Rhosgobel Rabbits…”

“Attack Rabbits more like!”

Ori gave a short laugh, “You’re just lucky I was there to save you.”

Dwalin’s hand slid a little further up Ori’s leg, so his fingers were tucked under Ori’s overcoat. Ori turned pinker but still sat close, taking his time washing out the many rabbit bites which now spotted Dwalin’s face. 

“That I was, lad. Lucky indeed.”


	3. Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back with girl!Ori, same universe as the Importance of Being Ori. This fill features one of my favorite fanon ideas of courtesan!Dori, with a hint of Dain/Dori thrown in as well.

“Are ya wearing yer cardigan?”

“Yes Da.”

“And ya got your bag with yer night shirt in?”

“Yes Da.”

“Have ya packed Mister Bun?”

_“Yes Da!”_ Little Dorlin gave a huff and a very dramatic eye roll, tiring of her father’s fussing.

“Alrigh’, alrigh’, just checkin’,” Dwalin ruffled his eldest daughter’s hair and moved to fussing over the twins, who were a few years younger and were much more receptive to their father’s fussing than Dorlin was.

After Dorlin had quickly checked that Mister Bunbun was in fact securely packed into her little leather overnight bag, she came over and rested her chin on her Da’s shoulder, watching as he rebuttoned Sori’s shirt (“One button per hole lad, there we go.”)

“Da…?”

“Yes poppet?”

“Why are we stayin’ with Uncle Nori?”

“Cause he’s yer uncle, poppet. He likes to have time with ye. He’s taken time off work ‘n everything.”

“No…I mean…when we have overnights we usually stay with Uncle Dori and Uncle Nori comes over. Why are we stayin’ at Uncle Nori’s house this time?”

“Ah…hmm…well…there’s a good reason for that…” Dwalin tried to stall for time, moving onto Mori’s buttons. 

“Is it because Uncle Dori has a new friend?”

Dwalin froze mid button, “Uh…and what do ye know about that love?”

“Cousin Kili told me. He said Uncle Dori has a new good friend an’ they’re spending a lot o’ time together. He said it’s Uncle Dori’s job to have a friend.”

“Oh, he did, did he?” Dwalin made a mental note to strangle Kili. 

Not that Dwalin had any problems with Dori taking up his old profession, and there was certainly nothing _shameful_ about being a Courtesan (Balin had in fact noted it was good for Thorin’s Court to have a few ‘Loose Gems’ floating around, it reminded people of the good old days), it was just difficult to explain to the kids when they had questions about what it was that Uncle Dori actually did…

“I even know who Uncle Dori’s new friend is, I reckon,” Dorlin said proudly. 

“Oh aye?” 

“Mmm, it’s Cousin Dain. He was with Uncle Dori when he picked me up from lessons last week and they were very friendly-like.”

Dwalin couldn’t help but chuckle. Ol’ Dain eh? Looks like he finally plucked up the courage to ask Dori for his (reassuringly expensive) companionship. Well, good for him. It’d been 20 years since Dain’s wife had died, none would begrudge him a little comfort. 

“Ori love! Is the bairn almost ready?” Dwalin called out, standing to get the twin’s bags from the kitchen table, “Nori’ll be here soon.”

Ori yelled out something indistinct from the nursery. Dwalin was distracted by Sori deciding he needed to push his brother over and pull at his hair, Dorlin pulling at the edge of her father’s tunic. 

Dwalin picked Mori up off the ground and gave Sori a scolding, sending him to sit in the corner for good measure. And, oh may the Maker be merciful, despite being dressed no more than 10 minutes ago, Mori had somehow managed to mash one of his wax coloring pencils into his shirt and spill…what was that? Dwalin took a sniff…grape juice all down the front of it! Did they even have grape juice in the house? Dwalin didn’t know…

Dorlin kept tugging at his shirt, “Da…Da…Da…” 

“Just a second, poppet." 

Dwalin pulled a knitted cardigan out of Sori and Mori’s dresser and pulled it on over his son’s tunic. They’ve packed changes of clothes, Nori could deal with it when they got to his place. 

“‘S ho-ot!” Mori whined, wiggling around in the cardigan.

“Ye can take it off when ye get to Uncle Nori’s. Go play with your brother…nicely now!” Dwalin put him down and watched him toddle over to Sori, all previous enmity forgotten.

“Da!” Dorlin said urgently, giving him another tug.

“Yes!? What is it…me darling?” 

“When I grow up, can I have Uncle Dori’s job?”

Dwalin blinked, “Why…why do ye want Dori’s job?”

“I think it’d be nice to have yer job be makin’ friends and makin’ people happy. So can I?”

Nori’s trademark knock sounded at the front door. Oh thank Mahal!

“We’ll talk about it later, poppet. Go let Uncle Nori in and I’ll get Mam and the baby.”

Ori gave a little jump as Dwalin’s arms circled around her waist, his lips finding her neck. She shoved a few extra changes of nappies into the baby bag and clicked the catches closed. 

“Are they all ready to go?”

“Fed, dressed, packed. All ready for the Durin’s Day weekend.”

He tried to kiss Ori again, only to have her escape out of his arms to pick the baby up, giving Dwalin a cheeky smile over their youngest’s head. 

“Your daughter and I have even been discussing her choice of trade…”

“Oh yes?”

“Mmmhmm, she’s very interested in Uncle Dori’s line of work.”

Ori threw back her head and laughed, “Oh Mahal. Does she…”

“She thinks his job is to make friends and make people happy.”

“Well…that is true, in a sense. Ah well, it’s an improvement over ‘Hobbit’ as a career choice, isn’t it,” she said, referring to Dorlin’s previous life aspiration, “Come on, let’s get ‘em sorted and we can finally have dinner. I’m starving.”

~*~*~

Ori and Dwalin waved from the doorway as Nori set off, a baby on his hip and a train of dwarrowlings and their little matching suitcases following after him. 

As soon as the door was closed Dwalin found himself pushed up against it, Ori’s arms around his neck. 

“Hey, weren’t you starvin’ before?”

“Dinner’ll keep…bedroom, now!”

Dwalin soon found himself on his back, watching as Ori pulled off her dress and petticoats, shedding her pantelets and climbing on top of him, her slip falling off her shoulders. 

“Dwalin,” she whispered, straddling him, hands moving maddeningly slowly as she undid the ties of his breeches, “Husband…”

“Aah…yes love…?” Dwalin closed his eyes, feeling small hands sliding up his chest. 

“I want another baby.”

“You what?” He sat up, eyes going wide, “But we just had the last one, it feels like five minutes ago!”

“It was eight years ago! Norlin’s been weaned for a year! Please love,” and Ori nuzzled under Dwalin’s chin, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, “I want another girl…a little sister for Dorlin. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

Dwalin grimaced, that did hold a certain appeal. And Ori was always so lovely pregnant, it almost seemed like a natural state for her…

“Dori’s gonna kill me. He still thinks I’m ruinin’ yer career keepin’ you constantly pregnant.”

“Oh pah, he’s full of nonsense. I do all me best work when I’m carryin’!”

“Well, _we_ know that…” Dwalin drifted off, hands running up Ori’s sides underneath her slip, “…it’s not as if we can’t afford to feed ‘em…”

“And Sori and Mori will be startin’ lessons next year. I’ll only have Norlin with me most days…”

“And it’s not as if we don’t have help…”

Ori sat up on Dwalin’s lap, “Yes! And I already discussed it with Bessr,” (their maid and sometimes nanny), “She said she’s happy to help with five as long as we get someone else in to do the heavy cleaning once a month!”

Dwalin raised an eyebrow, “Ye’ve been plannin’ this…”

A smile spread over Ori’s mouth, “Can ye blame me, husband?”

Dwalin snorted, pulling her down for a kiss, “No, I don’t suppose I can.”


	4. Cold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today’s fill is based loosely on a hobbit_kink prompt (which I sadly can’t find, I can’t even remember which post I saw it in) where Ori is much more experienced than he is often portrayed in fic, and puts on his ‘blushing dwarf twink’ act on in order to seduce big buff warrior types.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Ugh…” Ori froze in his spot, eyes going wide. 

“Well…?” Dori tapped his foot, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I was…cold?” Ori’s inflection lifted at the last word, like a pupil trying to guess the right answer to a sum. Dori tsked and rolled his eyes. Not the right answer then. 

“He was havin’ a swim…” Dwalin offered helpfully from his place on the ground.

“Yes! I was havin’ a swim, yer always sayin’ cleanliness is next to Mahal-liness after all, Dori.”

Dori raised one eyebrow. 

“…And afterwards I was right cold.”

“Freezin’! He was shakin’ like a leaf!” Dwalin said. 

“My lips was goin’ blue and everything. And…well, Mister Dwalin just happened to be passing…”

“What with you and he being in the same Company, going to the same Mountain and all…” Dori’s voice was laced with sarcasm. 

“Yes. Quite convenient really,” Ori gave a sniff, “And anyway, he saw how cold I was and…uh…offered to help warm me up.”

“And you both needed to be naked for this exercise, did you?”

“Body heat…it’s the most effective…uh…way of warming…other bodies.”

Dori’s eyes looked heavenward, he seemed to recite a short prayer before looking back to the pair, “Oh for goodness’ sake, here!” He tossed Ori’s clothes over to him, “Dinner’s almost on. At least _try_ to be decent when you get back to camp. I swear Ori, I don’t mind if you want to throw yourself at every tattooed hard case, but at least try to be discrete!” 

And with that Dori was off, shaking his head and muttering about decency and cursing all sexually liberated young dwarrows. The things they taught in the scrivener’s halls these days, I swear!

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Ori slipped out from under the blanket he and Dwalin had been ‘warming up’ under, “One of the problems with travelling with family, eh?”

He pulled out his pants from the pile Dori had thrown at him. Dwalin pushed himself up onto his elbows.

“What? Are we done all o’ a sudden?”

Ori’s mouth twisted, tilting his head to the side, “It's a bit of a mood killer, sorry. Promise I’ll make it up to you though.”

He lent over and pressed a quick kiss to Dwalin’s lips, giving his bicep a squeeze for good measure. Dwalin blinked, he watched Ori start to wrap himself up in all his layers of clothes; unders, tunic, pants, cardigan, over coat.

“What was all that about you an’ ‘tattooed hard cases’?” 

Ori stopped wrapping his belt around his waist, he bit down on his bottom lip (and Dwalin suddenly really, really wished Ori would come back under the blanket with him). The young lad shrugged. 

“Everyone ‘as a type I spose. I never said I was some blushin’ virgin.”

Dwalin thought back on the past weeks since the Company has started their quest. He though of Ori’s shy glances, his giggles, the way he had listened with eyes wide as Dwalin told him tales of his bravery, the brief little touches and the way Ori had flushed and gasped when Dwalin had returned them…

Dwalin closed his eyes, head banging back against the ground. Not a bloody blushing virgin, indeed! Oooh! The naughty little minx!

Another kiss made him open his eyes again. Ori was leaning over him, giving him a sly little smile. 

“Hey! Don’t strop. It’s gonna be cold tonight, play yer cards right and you can keep me warm.”

With that, and another quick squeeze to Dwalin’s biceps, Ori was gone, trotting back up to the camp. 

Dwalin lay back down on the ground, not quite ready to move, left wondering what had just happened to him…


	5. Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also couldn’t think of a good idea for today’s prompt. I’d like to thank tumblr user docmanda for sending me this idea as an ask, it’s super cute. Just something short and sweet today.

“I made it meself.”

Ori looks down at the package in his arms. Well, package may be going a little far. It’s not really wrapped, just covered in an old shirt and then tied together with a bit of rope Ori recognizes as belonging to Bombur (he uses it to keep part of his pack together). He looks back up at Dwalin and blinks rapidly, not quite sure what’s happening. 

“Well…open it Ori,” his brother Nori nudges him from the side, “It’s rude not to.”

Ori looks over to Nori but doesn’t catch his eye. Nori and Dwalin are sharing a look, he thinks he sees Nori give the larger dwarf a slight nod.

Ori unties the rope and pushes the fabric covering the package away. Inside is…oh! A scarf, made with grey wool. Oh, that is nice. 

“I uh…” Dwalin clears his throat, “You lost yer last one when were captured by the goblins. It’s getting cold…thought you might like a new one.”

Ori unfolds the scarf, holding it out in front of himself. The stitching is uneven, to say the best (to say the worse would be to point out that the scarf is about two inches wider at one end than it was at the other) and there are quite a few holes showing dropped stitches. Ori could see that Dwalin had started the scarf attempting to create a knitted and purled diamond pattern in it, but he seemed to have given up on that about a third of the way through, the rest of the scarf completed in simple garter stitch. 

Ori looks up at Dwalin again, taking note of the redness in his face, how his fists were clenched by his sides. 

“I…we’ve been…you know…” and at that Dwalin drops his voice, gesturing at Ori, “…since Beorn’s house. At my count tha’s four months today. Dori said…” Dwalin drifts off, Ori is certain he hears him mutter something about ‘anniversaries’ and ‘been takin’ lessons for weeks’.

At that Ori smiles, wrapping the scarf around his neck. It’s warm, and surprisingly soft. He takes Dwalin’s hand in his own and feels the larger dwarf relax slightly. 

“It’s the best scarf I’ve ever seen.”


	6. Metal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end. Today's fill returns to horny seductive Ori who has a thing for rough types (which is fast becoming one of my favorite Ori’s). Let’s say this iiiiiiiiis…an Erebor never fell AU.

Ori doesn’t have many opportunities to head down to the great bellows and forges of Erebor, but every time he does he relishes the chance. 

Usually he is sent by his Master to deliver something, a carefully handwritten invoice for some complex piece of work or perhaps a note of thanks commissioned by one of the lords or ladies. Sometimes he heads down on a personal matter, usually bringing Dori down some lunch if he is spending his day working at the forges. Those trips are less fun though, Dori never gives his younger brother a proper chance to _look_.

That is why Ori finds himself looking for any excuse to visit the forges. They are always hot, lit with orange glow of burning embers, and all the finest examples of dwarrowhood which can be found under the Lonely Mountain are to be seen down there, stripped to the waist and sweat falling off their bodies in rivers as they force the heavy metals they work into shape. Their huge arms working, the muscles on their backs rippling, stopping occasionally to move sweat soaked hair off their necks…

And Ori was only looking (most of the time), he swore! He didn’t know why Dori got in such a flap about the whole thing. I mean, honestly!

Today he has a few stops, dropping off a few days invoices to different smiths for them to pass on to their clients. He stops off first at old Master Hokbah’s shop, giggling at his jokes (the same ones he tells every week) and acting just scandalized enough when the old dwarrow pinches his bottom, heading off with payment and a smack to Hokbah’s hand. He’s a nice old chap, and completely harmless. Ori feels he’s doing a bit of a public service, letting him flirt and feel like he’s young again, not to mention he’s a very good client of Ori’s Master and has been for many years. 

Next it’s on to Master Lor’s shop. A dwarrow of middling age but still very good looking (If Ori is honest with himself, he finds he likes a dwarrow of middle age best, they just have the right amount of _substance_ ), mores the tragedy though as Master Lor has been happily married for close to fifty years. Still, there is no harm done in looking and Lor is always happy to have a chat. 

Then it’s on to Masters Ret and Rhir, brothers who run a shop together and are both blessed with the most amazing biceps. Ori can barely span his hands around them, and the brothers have let him try _many_ times. 

Then onto the public anvils and fires (though Ori has finished his work and has no real reason to be there), which are set up for any dwarrow to hire on a day by day basis for a small fee . This is where the apprentices and hobby smiths work, or those too young to afford their own shops yet. Ori has been down to the forges enough to recognize most of the regulars who work there but today the room is mostly empty, the only dwarf working there someone new…

Someone _perfect_ …

Oh, it’s like Ori dreamed him! He’s wonderfully tall, arms like tree trunks and just covered in thick black tattoos. The stranger turns a little and Ori can see he has two huge axes tattooed into his broad back. Ori’s toes curl inside his boots. Oh please Mahal, let this one be single. 

Ori smooths a hand over his hair, sets his face into his trademark look of confusion and vulnerability and shuffles closer to the large dwarrow, making sure to clutch his papers   
and bag close to his chest. 

“E-excuse me sir, I was wondering if you’d be able to help me. I don’t come down here often and I think I’ve gotten a bit lost…”

~*~*~

No more than thirty minutes later Ori finds himself shoved against the thick stone wall of a convenient alcove, his pants forgotten on the ground and his legs wrapped around Mister Dwalin’s thick trunk. 

He groans as Dwalin squeezes his buttocks, kneading the skin as he slams into Ori’s body again and again. Ori kicks at him with his ankles, spurning him on. 

He’s surprised when Dwalin leans in to kiss him, first on the mouth then moving down to suck a red mark on Ori’s neck. Ooooh, that won’t do! Dori’ll see that and then there’ll be all sorts of disapproving huffing. 

Ori grabs Dwalin’s head and pulls it up, pressing their mouths together again. When Dwalin pulls away he buries his face in Ori’s neck, moaning what a lovely, tight little fuck he is. 

That’s all it takes for Ori to come, moaning and kicking and grabbing at Dwalin’s hair. Dwalin isn’t far behind, he slams into Ori a few more times then groans loudly, leaning all his weight against Ori on the wall. Oh yes…oh that’s good. 

Eventually Dwalin lets Ori down. The young scribe starts to lean over to pick up his unders and pants but is stopped by Dwalin’s arm bracing against the wall, trapping him in place. 

“Will I see ya again?” he rumbles, brushing one of Ori’s braids behind his ear. 

“I dunno,” Ori slips under the outstretched arm, “You come down to the forges a bit more and you might…”

Dwalin makes a contemplative noise, “Ah, that too bad, lad. I was only down to make me brother a name day gift, it’s the one day a year I do come down. Bein’ a guardsman takes up a lot o’ me time…”

“You’re a city guard?”

“Ye could say that. I’m head of the city guard.”

Ohhhh, _that_ Mister Dwalin. Ori had thought the name sounded familiar. Ori runs an appreciative eye over Dwalin again, he had always liked those guard’s uniforms.

If Ori remembers correctly, it was usually one of the younger scribes who made the deliveries to the Guardhouse. It was a bit out of the way, and a long walk, no-one really liked to do the work…

He was sure whoever he offered to do the job for would be ever so grateful…


	7. Free for All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally got this one done! Day Seven's fill is a missing scene from the Importance of Being Ori. :3

Dwalin was nowhere near sleep when he saw Ori slip off her straw mattress and sneak out of the main hall of Beorn’s house. In his own way he’s been waiting, dreading just a little, yearing for it even more. He can’t decide how he feels about this whole thing, but rest assured, the yearning is winning out, no matter how many times he tells himself he shouldn’t meet her. 

Tonight they met out in the loft of the barn again, just like she asked. They lay on the straw under a fur she brings with her (a little too small for their purposes) and huddle close, trading kisses, her hands roaming over his upper arms. She asks him about his tattoos and unbuttons his tunic to see the axes inked there. 

And, oh…she’s wicked, such a lovely wicked wee thing, unbuttoning her own shirt and asking if he thinks the smooth expanse of her chest (no hair there but she’s young yet, and the soft curls dusting her stomach are sweet) could use a little decoration of its own. 

Dwalin licks his lips, “Maybe somethin’ small…yer family mark…maybe yer wee slingshot, right…” he presses his lips just under her collarbone, “…here.”

She shivers and pulls him closer, moaning out “Oh…Mister Dwalin!” in his ear. 

They manage to keep some of their clothes on that night, though not for lack of trying on her part. Dwalin had thought she would be nervous, that her girlish bravado would fail once they were out in the barn together, but instead her hands were bold and her mouth bolder, whispering to him what she wanted to do. 

The next night is another story altogether. They sneak down to one of Beorn’s pantries and lock the door behind them, her shaking with giggles as they lay a blanket down on the floor and drink far too much of Beorn’s honeyed mead and snack on cheese and dried fruit. The mead makes Ori bold and she removes every stitch of her clothing, lounging on their blankets they brought in like something out of some very risqué art books Dwalin most _definitely_ did not have a collection of. 

“You gonna come down ‘ere with me?” she asks, taking another mouthful of mead, her words slurred. 

Dwalin chuckles, “No.”

She pouts spectacularly back, “Why not?”

“Because yer drunk, lassie.”

“’M not d-runk! I’m just…cheerful,” a little mead sloshes over her hand as she moves the cup she’s holding, “Come ‘n sit wit meeee. I just want to have a chat, maybe a little kiss, I w-won’t be bad Ori, I promise.”

Against his better judgement (and because Ori was holding the mead captive if he didn’t), Dwalin sits down beside her on the blanket. Soon sweet words and kisses graduate to roaming hands, Ori’s deft fingers making short work of the buckles and straps of Dwalin’s clothing. She drives him half to distraction, feather soft touches ghosting over his skin. Mahal above, it’s been so long since he’s had a woman…so very long. 

He’s not so far gone from the mead that they make love that night, because she is drunk, and Dwalin’s sense of honour won’t let him take advantage of a young drunk lass, a virgin, no matter how many times she asks. Instead the night ends with his head between her thighs, tasting her and burying his face in the soft hair that grows there. She twitches and keeps repeating “oh Mahal” over and over again, until it becomes a chant. 

When they’re done he bundles her back up in her clothes and tucks her into her bed. The next morning she’s slow to rise and grumpy, complaining of a headache and upset stomach. Dori fusses over her, certain it is the return of the illness brought about by the goblin bite. Oin takes one look at the lass and says she’ll be fine, leaving her and her brother with a shake of his head. Dwalin would almost laugh, if it weren’t for the pounding in his own head he’s trying to hide from the others. 

The third night, well, Ori seems to have made plans. She sneaks out so fast Dwalin almost misses her, and by the time he finds her, this time towards the back of the house, in some unused room, the floor covered in straw and little else, she’s laying on a pile of the stuff, a large fur pulled up to her neck. He joins her and she’s already naked underneath. One of his hands finds her waist and pulls her closer.

“I’m not drunk tonight…just so ye know,” she whispers, resting her head on his chest, “I dunno how much longer we’re gonna be here…I want to…”

Ori pauses and takes a long breath through her nose. She takes Dwalin’s hand and moves it to where the goblin bite on her side is, now almost healed. He traces his fingers over the new, half moon scars on her side. 

“This almost killed me. Despite what Mister Bilbo says, I don’t think things are gonna get less dangerous for us. I…I don’t want to die a maid.”

“Oh lass…” Dwalin whispers, running his fingers through her hair. He doesn’t tell her she won’t die, that the worst of the danger is behind him, he knows it isn’t true. “Aren’t ye worried about getting pregnant?”

“What are the chances?” she whispers back urgently, “We’re on the move, we’re not even living underground. I’ve got a better chance of sprouting bloody wings than I do of getting pregnant.”

He gives an amused snort then presses his lips to her forehead, “I care about ye lass. You know that, don’t ye?”

“I care about you too…” she kisses him on the lips and smiles, “But don’t get all serious on me now.”

He chuckles at that and rolls her onto her back, stroking his fingers down her braids and then through her beard. And oh, she is lovely; pink cheeked and long nosed, with those bright, clever brown eyes. He kisses her and her tongue slips into his mouth. His hand slides up and cups her breast, dragging a calloused thumb over her nipple and feeling it pucker. 

He is slow and deliberate in his movements and touches. He knows their circumstances are not ideal. She shouldn’t be having her first tastes of love in a drafty, disused old room. She should have a thick mattress and the finest sheets, pillows and silk night gowns and all the things ladies love. 

But instead they have this, so Dwalin will have to make do. 

He kisses her deeply then slides his lips down her neck, pausing to nuzzle her breasts. His hands move between her legs and stroke her, focusing on the little nub which crowns her cunt, making her gasp so sweetly. 

When he finally slides inside her she’s so wet and hot, he can’t help but groan, almost too loud. He moves slowly at first, afraid he might hurt her, but then her thighs tighten around his hips and she gasps out “faster” and he does as he’s told, gripping her about the waist and watching her breats jiggle as he thrusts into her. His head swims, he can hear her gasping out his name, feel her moving under him. 

After they’re both done, Ori gasping and clinging to Dwalin’s shoulders, holding him close as the sweat cools on her body, they stay in place as long as they dare. Dwalin wishes they could stay like this all night, perhaps wake up together and have a slow breakfast…

Alas, it’s not to be, not yet at any rate. Far too soon for either of their tastes, Ori wriggles out from under him and starts to pull on her clothes, shivering in the cold night air. Dwalin flops onto his back and watches her. 

“Tomorrow night?” she whispers, a little shyly, not meeting his eyes. 

“If ye want me…”

“Of course,” she says, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world, then crawls over and kisses him one last time on the lips, “Thank you…”

“For what?”

“For…this. Bein’ understanding…listening to me, not just tellin’ me what I should be doin’…”

Dwalin smiles, smoothing over her hair with his hand, “Anytime, lass.”


End file.
